


The End of One; The Start of Another

by Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-13 01:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14739311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper/pseuds/Pistol_the_Dimension_Hopper
Summary: "H-Holy FUCK-?!"“Is that the greeting you’ve accustomed to in your absence?” Holy shit it sounded confused, and it’s face looked almost concerned and-And she was laughing-holy shit she was laughing like a psychotic dumbass..“Ah,” he sighed, sending a gust of wind so cold she felt a shiver trail from her numb feet to the roots of her hair, freezing her sweat from her skin as she hurried to rub her arms. “You’re lucid. That is good. We have much to discuss, Creator.”“Who the- What-?!” she called, sucking in a deep, gasping breath before she was struggling to sit up again, having clearly gotten his absolute attention with her words, “What is going on-?! Are you God-?!”There was a silence..And then..“AhahahaAHAHAHAHAHA-!”Now the giant toaster was laughing at her..





	1. Waking Up

“What.. the fuck..?”

The giant.. _Giant_ thing.. Was sitting in front of her like some over eager, colossal-sized metallic _dog_ .. It had been.. _Staring_ at her for nearly ten minutes, or, what felt like ten minutes, because to her, the current perception of time was absolute shit right now..

Dying kind of did that..

Or.. she _thought_ she was dead..

Pretty sure that car-crash was fatal..

 _Hmm_..

“What the fuck..?” she repeated, a tad louder as she brought up her hands, pale, slim hands to push sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes to take a better look at this collaosus _thing_ still staring at _heranditwasmovingshit-_

She was met with the sight of a finger larger than five of her standing together, her eyes wide and unmoving as she watched the one on the other side swoop out in an effort to smoothly corral her.

She was, after a moment of silent, frozen panic, thankful that she had not tried to make a break for it, considering she could have easily been fly-squashed by even an abrupt, _accidental_ move of those giant, car-circumferenced sized digits as they plucked her up, letting her roll ungracefully to the center of his left palm, legs over head until she’d managed to stop herself with a huff, her shoulders twitching with the strain to stay calm and her feet and legs numb with shock and adrenaline.

“Welcome back, Creator,” he greeted calmly, his english fluent, relaxed, and almost.. Dare she think.. _happy?_

“What the fuck,” she repeated again, her mind blanking as she took in the figures much, _much_ closer face.

It was made, like the rest of it, with shining, polished metal, possibly chrome, if she had to guess. It wasn’t wearing clothes, per say, but there was a sort of tribal headpiece on it’s huge head that resembled an indian’s.. Only, this one was comprised of giant-ass silver feathers with red and blue decals.. There was a sort of black polish to it’s chest, hips, and lower legs, the feet seemingly made of polished chrome.

If she was going to be funny about it, he looked like an Empire-state building times three sized transformer.

_At least from her perspective._

“Is that the greeting you’ve accustomed to in your absence?” Holy shit it sounded _confused_ , and it’s face looked almost concerned and-

And she was laughing- _holy shit she was laughing like a psychotic dumbass.._

“Ah,” he sighed, sending a gust of wind so cold she felt a shiver trail from her numb feet to the roots of her hair, freezing her sweat from her skin as she hurried to rub her arms. “You’re lucid. That is good. We have much to discuss, Creator.”

“Who the- What-?!” she called, sucking in a deep, gasping breath before she was struggling to sit up again, having clearly gotten his absolute attention with her words, “What is going on-?! Are you God-?!”

There was a silence..

And then..

“ _AhahahaAHAHAHAHAHA-!”_

 _Now the giant toaster was laughing at_ **_her_ ** _.._

* * *

Reincarnation was never really on her mind throughout her first life.

Sure, she had toyed with the idea for her novels or fanfictions involving self-made heroines and sappy fictional characters, but _this_..

This was a little much.

At least she finally, at the tender age of three, had all of her senses fully developed and she had only a slight lack of sight that would mature with age. With these new senses, she began to observe this oddly _normal_ , new life.

She wasn’t five hundred years in the past, and it wasn’t some weird foreign country she couldn’t speak a full fluent sentence of their native language in. (Granted, if she had wound up in Japan, she would have managed just fine).

No, she was in America.

 _California_ to be exact..

_How in the hell she managed to be put in one of the most lenient states in the country astounded her for more abstract reasons._

And the fact that her new name was Samantha kind of ticked her off, too.

She liked her old name. As weird and ridiculous as it was, but _Samantha_..?”

Crackerjacks Jordan had a better ring to it than Samantha Witwicky.

_Itch-Itch-Itch- that last name bugged her like no other and she wanted to crack transformers jokes but she was still in the stage where she was developing her accent._

Yeah, apparently, she had a bit of a kick when she heard her last name.

She had giggled so hard her mother had flipped, then burst into joy. Her little, almost non-stop stoic baby actually laughing about something.

Samantha, or, CJ, as she prefered to be called by those who would listen, would spend three years in this new life before she noticed the constituencies with the family she had once seen on screen.

It was also three years in, however, that the dreams started.

The movies replayed, over and over, night after night, with only the occasional night where it was silent.

But then, sick of this annoying pattern and practically salivating for something else, she started reaching.

When she was four, and finally got her hands on a wicked old computer, she nearly lost her shit.

The calendar wasn’t wrong, the date was _right_ , just not _right for her.._

_And fuck if she hadn’t had a panic attack about that.._


	2. Chapter 2

“This is ridiculous, I  _ can’t _ be your God-!” she snapped, clearly frustrated as she rung her stringy, brown hair through her hands over and over. She was dressed in a simple black tunic, lined with a sparkling, silver liner that resembled supernovas, and a firm,  _ metal _ plated bodice that looked more like a gladiator’s apparel than anything.

This conversation, according to the giant  _ alien _ -

_ Who was, in fact, PRIMUS- _

Had been going on for a cycle of earth similar to seven and a half hours.

Time didn’t really have a measurement here, it was much too abstract, and bendable.

_ And there was also the tiny detail that she had  _ **_created_ ** _ this goliath of a skyscraper using an ancient ability even  _ **_he_ ** _ was not privy of knowledge to.. _

_ Her previous “body” had decided he didn’t  _ **_need_ ** _ to know.. _

_ “Safety purposes” _ he had scoffed, recalling memories of being raised from sparkling to God, followed by her heavy assistance in creating his  _ own _ beings of sentient thought.

He was her child, but also her pupil, and friend.

Cybertron was invented with  _ her _ power, it was  _ her _ who gave it the ability to exist.

It was merely the  _ idea _ that had come from Primus, himself.

Or more, he had  _ begged _ her to allow him the right to create civilization.

She had agreed promptly, but any wars, or heartache was his to bear.

He would not be given an out if he felt things were out of hand, it was not his place to interfere.

“You have been,” he stated calmly, repeating it with something akin to limitless patience, “Just as you always  _ will _ be.. Your time with your human creations was meant to be  _ humbling.. _ And while I have no knowledge of what you have experienced, or what you may have seen or created elsewhere, consciously or not, you are  _ still _ the being that has brought life to me, and  _ my _ children.”

The miniscule woman blinked once, then twice.

_ And promptly passed the fuck out. _

* * *

Lee Taylor was a calm, cool woman with a stern face and a slight drawl in her accent, hinting a bit at French descent. She was the epitome of patience with her daughter’s extremities, despite her rather straight-backed and crossed legs manner, but it was clear to see that she loved her daughter with everything she had.

And she loved her little granddaughter just as much.

“Samantha,” the croon of her grandmother to the eight year old was soft, and curious, and the little girl with a dark brown hair and the mixed colored eyes that played as hazel peered up from the manual she was looking through.

A manual for car parts, and uses.

“Yes,  _ Mamie _ ,” she perked up, furrowing her eyebrows and closing the thick, glossy book before moving to sit closer to her grandmother on the couch. She was going to be stitching something into a pillowcase, but she hadn’t started yet. “What do you need?”

“What would you like on your pillowcase, love?” she asked quietly. She had asked once before, but her nose had been so buried in the book the little girl likely hadn’t heard her.

Judy and Ron were on a weekend trip to Las Vegas, something about a bit of a fight and needing to reestablish the relationship. Lee didn’t see much point, the two were obviously made for each other, in both attitude and interests.

The fact that her little  _ Mon sucre d'orge _ was so focussed like herself was a little more worrying than she had thought. She expected energy galore, a lot of rebelliousness and tantrums with both Judy’s and Ron’s genes, but if she had to take a silent, personal opinion, it was like watching an adult in a child’s body observe the antics of two teenagers.

She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she didn’t really have the place to say..

Giving her  _ Mon sucre d'orge _ candy, however, was something that brought back a tiny bit of a child in her granddaughter.

M&Ms, mostly. And lollipops.

“Can I draw it?” she asked curiously.

Lee blinked quickly at her granddaughter, stilling for a moment before a smile broke out across her lips, and she nodded, gesturing for her to do so. “That would be fine, love. There should be paper on that table..” The little girl nodded, moving to the small coffee table and plucking the pen and small pad of paper into her little hands. Lee watched in bated silence as she sketched, her eyebrows hitching up higher and higher as the sharp, furtive lines of a sketch took form. When she was done, the little girl held out the two-faced symbol with a smile, using her left hand to hold the drawing while she used her right to point out the different sides.

“The half on the left is blue, like, a bright blue you see in energy, and the right side is a bright red. Like a fire truck color.”

“What are these symbols?” Lee asked slowly, pressing her lips together in thought as her little grandchild paused, looked at the design, then smiled, “Autobots and Decepticons.”

“And what are those?” Lee asked slowly. What in the world..?

“Character factions for a book I want to write.”

Oh.

_ Oh.. _ she wasn’t sure why, but there was a bit of relief in her body when she realized how harmless the strange, relatively unnerving symbols were.

“Can you make this one, grandma?” Samantha asked gently, and it was then that the old woman smiled toward her charge at the put-out expression on her face, “If you can’t, I’ll just make something else.”

“No, no,” she reached forward, and took the drawing with a smile before setting it on the arm of her favored leather chair, “This will do just fine. Now, why don’t you tell me about this book you’re going to write, hm? I’ll listen while I work..”

Samantha looked absolutely delighted by the prospect, and Lee smiled as she plucked her fingers through the organized container beside her of thread bundles.

_ Blue and Red. _

“Long ago, in a far distant galaxy.. There lived a race of peaceful organisms, made of metal, and a substance called  _ energon.. _ This place was called Cybertron, and for a while it  _ was _ peaceful.. But then..”

(-_-:||:-_-)

“So.. “I” left.. And erased my..  _ Memory _ .. Voluntarily..?”

“As I recall,” the being stated slowly, as if testing his words with hesitation and slight unease with the topic, “You had grown..  _ Depressed.. _ ” the word seemed unfamiliar, but very,  _ very _ important on his glossa when he’d said it, “With the progression and mannerisms of many species.. Their wars brought pain to you..”

“That.. makes sense, I guess..” the whisper could have been yelled, considering the void they were in was past the point of pin-drop silence.

There was a few minutes of silence, and then.\

“Wait a minute, if I’m God, does that mean I get to do whatever I want, and make whatever I want,  _ whenever _ I want?”

* * *

“I’m Miles.”

“Samantha.”

“You.. like cars?”

The open muscle magazine on her lap should have said enough for the ten-year-old, but instead, she politely nodded, “Yes.”

“Cool,” he murmured, scuffing his shoe on the ground before looking at the magazine again, “Can I.. look with you?”

“Why not,” she shrugged, scooting over on the hot stone bench enough for him to sit beside her, before he started pointing out the ones he thought looked cool. “That’s a topkick,” Samantha stated calmly. “They’re for the really heavy-duty stuff like hauling and off-road.”

“Cool,” he whispered, “Do you know a lot about cars?”

“I try to,” she smiled.

* * *

“This is ridiculous,” CJ sighed, scratching at the ear of the metallic tiger she had made, frowning at the world around her. “ _ This _ is Cybertron, right? Where’s all the energon springs.? Or.. or  _ civilization _ ..?”

“Do you wish to interfere with the sentient beings of this particular timeframe?” Primus actually sounded  _ concerned _ ..

Though, as he would explain it later to her, after she came back to their previous rendezvous covered in grease and energon, he was  _ more _ concerned about the mechs and femme she would possibly, and most likely, scar the ever living slag out of.

CJ had absolutely no regrets, she had gotten to meet, and spend several long hours (or joors, in this world’s measures) simply speaking to the dirty, close to starving  _ Megatronus _ , treating him to some high-class energon to eat and buying him as many sweets in the markets she could get him to fit in his subspace.

_ Learning how to  _ **_make_ ** _ said sweets was also something she took meticulous note of.. _

To be completely honest, he was an absolute  _ doll _ up until he would tip over the edge.

_ Primus help her- she was getting mother-bear feelings for a super villain.. _

* * *

 

"Is this safe?"

"Of course it is, Miles."

"I dunno.."

"You're thirteen, not five, are you  _seriously_ going to pull a sudden fear of heights out of your ass?"

"You have a really dirty vocabulary.."

"Stop changing the subject."

There was a soft rev, and an ominous click.

"Okay, I'm serious, what even  _are_ these-?!"

"Rocket shoes, Miles. Rocket shoes."

....

"Am I going to lose my eyebrows again?"

"It's a possibility."

"..."

"..."

"..Whatever, just make sure you have the hospital on hand."

"There's this awesome thing called speed dial, Miles."

* * *

(Four Years Later)

“C’mon Sam-!”

Samantha Witwicky rolled her eyes skyward before she stuck the piece of toast in her mouth, pausing a moment to give her mother a hug and press her shoulder to her father’s before she was bolting outside the house, ducking through the garage so she wouldn’t be on the grass.

Her father had said it  _ one  _ time, and she had yet to set a foot on the lawn since.

“Finally,” Miles rolled his eyes, his older brother perking up from the driver’s seat at the sight of the female before she’d parked herself into the back, still munching on her breakfast while Miles handed back a frozen coffee from between the front seats. “Here, Caramel with extra whip.”

“McDonalds, baby,” Sam grinned, taking a loving sip before reaching forward to spot him four bucks. “Thanks. Hey, you guys hear anything about the motorcycle?”

“Nah, old man sold it,” Jonathan sighed, looking honestly regrettable as he shot her a frown through the rear-view mirror. “Why do you need a ride so bad? Don’t you like it when I drop you off?”

“We walk home, dude,” Miles grimaced, knowing absolutely the only reason  _ he _ got rides to school was because of his greasemonkey soul-sister parked in the back. “And  _ gross _ , don’t flirt with her while I’m in here.”

“Hey, man, I am  _ all _ for you ignoring her,” Johnathan defended himself quickly, “Just means I have a better shot.”

“She’s still sitting there, man,” Miles grimaced again, shooting Sam an apologetic look before sitting forward again and looking through his bag for what he needed. “Hey Sam, I got that issue you wanted did you need it now or-”

“Gimme-!” she was between the seats in an instant, a bag of M&Ms plopped into his lap before the magazine was plucked from his hands and she was kicking back to look through it. “Aw  _ man _ .. This issue has Dylan  _ Gould _ in it.. Nasty-!”

“Wasn’t he named, like, sexiest man alive last year?” Jonathan sounded confused.

“Fuck him and his shiny cars,” Sam snapped, clearly disgusted as she hurriedly skipped the four-page long interview of the super-sized car show owner. “He’s pure evil incarnate.  _ Fuck _ him.”

“She  _ really _ hates Dylan Gould,” Miles shrugged at the confused look of his brother, before turning back to her again, “Do we need to have a cleansing bonfire for that issue, or will you spare the other pages, I saw a Chevy in there I kind of want for my board.”

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, her lips twisting in disgust before she handed the issue back over, quickly rubbing her hands on her jeans, “Gross-Gross-Gross.. Dylan disease.. Nasty..”

“Why do you hate him so much?” Jonathan sounded confused. “Isn't’ he like, the king of car shows or whatever?”

“He’s despicable and I hate his very essence,” Sam hissed, making the elder brother flinch before he shook his head, shrugged it off, and continued to drive.

“Hey, Sam, when are you presenting your genealogy report?” Miles asked curiously.

“End of school, Friday,” she shrugged, “when I get the A, Dad’s taking me hunting for my first car.”

“Where you going?” Miles hitched up an eyebrow.

“Well,” she flicked her eyebrows up, then shrugged as she leaned back in her seat, “I’m ninety percent sure he’ll try to bullshit me into thinking he’ll buy me a porsche-”

“You hate Porsches,” Miles cut in, and she nodded, “Yeah, but he doesn’t know that, as I was saying, he’ll bullshit me, but I’m still ninety percent sure he’ll wind up taking me to Bolivia’s Finest Quality Used Cars and Petting Zoo.. I’m certain there’s an ostrich..”

“Yikes..”

“Yeah..”

“Seeing the future sometimes must suck.”

“Well at least I know aliens are real.”

“I’m not believing a word you say until that’s true.”

“Give it a few days Miles,” she grinned, “If I disappear, don’t look for me.”

“You see- Now I’m  _ concerned _ .”


	3. Chapter 3

“So tomorrow’s the big report, huh?” Her mother put down her plate of chicken, corn and mashed potatoes and Samantha was already eagerly chewing on the grilled meat. “Mhm,” she hummed instead, licking her lips and reaching for a napkin when her father had cleared his throat sternly, his own hunk of chicken on the end of his fork. “Now listen young lady, I’m not going to cave a  _ single _ inch on your checklist if you want a car, even if you gave me three thousand instead of the two, I’m not spotting you an A.”

“I know, Daddy,” she smiled, the once in a blue moon endearment calming him just a tad from his stern-father mode. (Despite the fact that he was wrapped so tightly around his little girl’s finger, just like his mama.) “I just wanted to put three in so the car’s a little nicer. I want something I can fix up better before graduation in a year or so. It’s my first car, I want to make it special.”

“Well.. good,” he muttered, moving to bite into his corn while his wife shook her head, strawberry blonde curls bouncing a little before she, too, bit into the chicken.

Just a day, huh?

* * *

“Oh, I  _ love _ these glasses,” Sam smiled, tucking them safely back into the case before putting  _ that _ into her regular bag. The bag beside that one was larger, and more sturdy, with a sweater, and another shirt. Along with the clothes, there was a pair of jeans, a pair of “modified” shoes, since her converse were out of the question for running, and there was no way she was bolting through Mission City in easily burnable sneakers.

Plus, she kind of needed a backup for her inevitable area-fifty-one day.

_ No way in hell was she letting Jazz take the fall. Nu-uh. No way. _

_ No way in hell. _

Pulling the bag over her shoulder, she smiled as she heard the jingling of her Chihuahua's bling, as well as the thump of his cast, on the wood of her bedroom floor.

“Hey-Hey Mo-jo,” she made a soft kissy noise before she bent down, picking up the shivering ball of skin and bones and petting between his ears. “Today’s the day, Mojo, I’m gonna meet aliens..”

_ Holy shit, she was gonna meet  _ **_the_ ** _ aliens.. _

Swallowing thickly, she plucked her device off of the desk, as well as the extension cord she may or may not need, and double-checking that she had all of the tools, as well as the glasses, packed into her actual backpack. Zipping it closed, she reached over for her black jean jacket, with the Autobots-Decepticon dual face design she’d drawn stitched into the shoulders by her grandmother.

The jacket was a lot more sentimental now, since the funeral had been a few months before..

She had been more than a little upset, and had inadvertently locked herself into her room for a few days before sucking it up to face her family.

Her other grandma, on her father’s side, was named Clarisse, and was a bit more concerned with the fact that she was so tom-boyish.

Her father didn’t mind, because she showed absolutely no interest in dating, though it worried her mother, leaving her to her inventions and her workshop in their backyard garage. The front garage was a one-door, so her dad’s Austin Healey BJ8 went closer to the house, and she got the space in the backyard. This was so any sparks that may or may not come from her tinkering wouldn’t put his baby’s, the car and lawn, in jeopardy.

Taking a deep breath, she slipped on her converse, the white ones with the fabric marker designs for BumbleBee on one foot and Optimus on the other. Black jeans followed by a loose grey shirt with the words ‘I Think Cars are Better than Boys’ in blocky font with an Impala beneath it. 

Supernatural was finally out, thank the gods, so she could binge that in her off-time.

Pulling the jacket over her shirt, she checked to make sure the pockets weren’t out, and quickly brushed her hair, throwing it into a long, loose brown braid before swiping up her sunglasses and pulling her decked out watch over her wrist. 

Well, calling it a watch was a bit of an insult to this little toy.

Double checking a final time, she screwed the flat-bill cap over her head and hurried to run down the stairs. She kissed her mother’s cheek, swiping the poptarts held out for her before she gave her father a hug and hurried to go to the garage.

“Good luck on your presentation honey-!”

“Thanks, Ma-!” she smiled, giving her a two-fingered salute before ducking into the garage and hurry to slip outside. The battered grey jeep was where it always was, and she slipped inside the back just as Miles zipped open his backpack, pulling out a new magazine, with something  _ much _ more lovely on the cover.

“ _ Ooh _ ~” she whispered, her hand inching forward slowly before it was pulled away, and she pouted, “Aww,  _ Miles _ , don’t tease me like that-!”

“What is it with you and yellow Camaros?” Jonathan muttered.

“ _ Only _ yellow Camaros with black racing stripes,” Samantha stated firmly, “And Peterbilt Trucks with blue caps, red flames and blue flames over the red.. I also black Black Topkicks and silver Porsches, but only a certain model, and search and rescue vehicles.”

“That’s specific,” Jonathan deadpanned.

“Keeps me focussed,” Sam nodded, “But the Camero comes first. I mean it, Miles, the Camaro comes  _ first _ .”

“What, when you get one, it’ll be your kid?” Miles didn’t sound confused, more so resigned.

“Bingo,” Sam pat his shoulder, “I’ve already got his personalized plates planned out, his name in my head, and all of the decals I want to put on the back.”

“Decals on a Camaro?” Jonathan didn’t look convinced.

“Certain ones, yeah,” she smiled.

“Only you,” Miles sighed.

“Only me,” Sam nodded.

* * *

“Hi Mikaela,” Sam greeted calmly, brushing past the well-dressed female with a bit of a nod before moving into the classroom. She could hear Trent just behind her greeting his girlfriend enthusiastically, even if he  _ had _ tried another lame pick-up line on her not five minutes ago.

_ Those are some nice headlights, but there's no need to put your high beams on… yet.  _

Fuck him-! That sleazy piece of crap was getting what-for at that damned party tonight.

And yeah, she  _ had _ been invited, and she sure as hell was going to go.

With Miles, of course. 

Now for mister Howzer’s class..

_ Yippee.. _

Now she just had to sit tight until the rest of the class finished.

Five projects later, including a  _ rambling _ , mumbled report on the fact that  _ someone _ had been related to a famous movie-star, she was finally brought out of her funk.

_ “ _ Alright, Miss Witwicky, you’re up.”

“Sure thing,” she nodded, getting up from her seat and bringing her bag, and the folder with her. She set the little cylindrical machine on the front desk Mr Howzer had placed there for the students to use, and she heard the surprised whispers as she brought the cord down and plugged it in under the blackboard. She felt her eye twitch at the sound of chuckling, but forced herself to calm, and got to her feet, brushing off her knees before moving to set everything neatly down on top of the desk. Mr Howzer looked a bit confused by the little machine, but didn’t comment until she had gotten everything set out, and cleared her throat. 

“My name is Sam Witwicky, and today, I’m doing my genealogy report on one of my favorite ancestors, Captain Archibald Witwicky.”

She pressed the button on her wrist watch, the little cylinder on the table giving a beep before a large scaled globe hovered in the air with just a single waver, before stilling. There were gasps of surprise, and murmurs of excitement, and she heard Mr Howzer scuttle a bit at the sight before he was hushing the class quickly. “Quiet-Quiet-! Miss Witwicky, what is this?”

“I brought a visual aid for my report today,” she answered in the calmest voice she could muster, “May I continue?”

“Y-Yeah-yes,” he shuddered, watching as she nodded before turning back to the glass, pressing another button on her wrist watch so the globe spun in a slow manner, and she started talking. “Continue.”

“My great-great grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, was a famous explorer. In his travels, he had been one of the first people ever to explore the arctic circle.” The globe stopped spinning, and seemingly turned, showing off to the class the area of the south pole before lighting up with a bright purple line in place of a certain route.

“In 1897, he took forty-one brave sailors straight into the arctic shelf.” 

The globe disappeared, replaced by a flat sort of screen, looking like a flat, hovering television while the students watched with bated breath. On the screen was a picture of a ship, stuck in ice, clearly drawn in pencil, but shaded and painted with watercolor, with a portrait of a man, drawn in pencil and painted with watercolor again, coming next, “On this adventure, they faced many a hardship, often dealing with temperatures frigid enough to kill you if you stood too long in the same spot without moving.” Letting the portrait stay on the monitor, she moved to the desk, picking up first the cylinder-shaped leather satchel she used herself on a weekly basis for projects, and holding it out for people to see. “I brought some of the tools today that sailors on my grandfather’s ship would use. Here’s the quadrant, where he stored his maps, and pencils.” She set that down, and picked up the navigator, “This is the compass they used to track the distance traveled, and mark the distance from them to an object ahead, and don’t laugh, but it’s officially called a sextant.”

There were snickers, but she brushed it off, continuing with a strained smile, “I also have newspaper clippings, from my grandfather's return. Unfortunately, his journey into the arctic circle had been his last. On his trek through the ice, they had come across something unexplained.. There were never any articles written about it, and our family history on the subject was kept silent. However, on that trip, something had happened, and when he had come home.. He become ill. Not physically, due to temperature, but mentally. He’d been placed into a mental institution,” she held up the two newspapers, yellowed with age and incredibly fragile, though she had been smart enough years ago to ask her father if she could laminate them. He’d agreed easy enough. “He would draw these strange, unknown symbols, pleading with anyone who would listen about a man still caught in the ice.” She set down the papers, and carefully picked up the glasses, showing off the circled lenses with the micro-lasered cracks. “All of the explorers came home, and there was nothing else revealed about the voyage that had ended my grandfather’s career.”

She clicked her watch, and the cylinder shut off, taking the projection with it as she bowed her head to the class, just as the bell rang. There was a pause, while people process for a moment what was going on, before the room was a mess of teenagers and fumbling backpacks. Questions like “Where the hell did you get that thing” and “what did you mean by ice-man” flew across the room quickly but she only smiled and packed everything back into her backpack quickly, making sure to wind the extension cord around her hand as she waited for the last of the people to leave.

“Okay, there might be a pop quiz tomorrow, might not-!” Mr Howzer piped up, scrambling to get to his feet while the chaos ensued for everyone to get out of the door. “Sleep in fear tonight.” The room cleared out until about five people were left, and Mr Hozer moved to take a seat, sighing a bt in post-shock. “Miss Witwicky.”

“Yes sir,” she nodded, carefully putting her backpack over her shoulder before moving to stand in front of his desk with a slight smile. “How did I do?”

“Well..” he puffed, running a hand over his jaw before he shrugged. “I.. I’d have to give that an A.. What-” he sat forward then, looking so incredibly lost and confused that she had paused her immediate victory dance to give him a blink, “What-What was that- that.. That thing you put on the-..?”

“My hologram machine,” she smiled, pulling up her jacket’s sleeve to show her wristwatch, “The remote for it is here, I use it to make 3D models for my inventions.”

“Oh,” he murmured, his eyes hazy as he processed that. “It’s.. it’s very.. Effective.”

“Thank you sir. Uhm, you wouldn’t mind giving me my grade  _ now _ , would you?”

* * *

“Nice-!” Miles met her high-five with gusto, and she elbow bumped him for good measure before jerking her chin toward the street. Her father would be waiting to hear the results.

“I gotta go,” she smiled, “We still on for the party tonight?”

“Definitely,” he nodded, reaching a hand up to mess up her hair before slinging an arm around her shoulder and practically throwing her into the air, “Agh-! I’m so proud of you-!”

“Oh please,” she scoffed, “You’re just happy because you scored a ninety-eight on your math test.”

“Yes, I am,” he nodded, sternly, completely serious as he clutched her upper arms, “and I just want to thank you one more time for agreeing to be my private tutor.”

“You bribed me with candy, Miles.”

“Hey, you bribe me right back,” he pointed out.

“True,” she nodded, then sighed, “I  _ really  _ gotta go.”

“See ya’ sis,” he smiled, patting her back before she took off running for the dark green car sitting in front of the drainage cement square.

“So,” he asked calmly from the driver’s seat, watching his straight B daughter hold out the paper with a slight smile, not saying a word. He took it carefully, holding it back a bit to let his eyes adjust, before scoffing, “Well I’ll be damned. It’s an A.”

“Let’s go get the car,” Sam pleaded immediately, practically vibrating in her seat as she shook her clasped, praying hands in front of her chest. “Please Daddy,  _ please? _ ”

“Okay,  _ okay _ ,” he held out a hand to calm her, putting it on her shoulder before moving to pull the car out of park, “Alright, let’s go get your first car.”

“Yes-!” she cheered, throwing her hands up in excitement before moving to check the contents of her bag.

_ Everything was there. Good. _


	4. Chapter 4

“I got a little surprise for you, sweetheart,” Ron smiled, sliding a sly look to his daughter as she looked at the dealership they were pulling into, her eyebrows hitched up and shock on her face.

“Dad..” she whispered, eyebrows furrowing before she gave him the most heart wrenching look he’d ever seen on her face,  _ “No-! Dad-! Please _ don’t make me get a Porsche.. I  _ hate _ Porsches..  _ Please  _ no-!”

“Seriously,” he scoffed, a look of absolute bafflement on his face, “Are you kidding me?” he finished driving through the front display lot before pulling back onto the road, and she seemed to deflate with relief the further away they seemed to get. “Since when do you not like nice cars?”

“I don’t like Porsches,” she grimaced, “They’re  _ way _ too pretty, and high-class. I want a  _ muscle _ car, not a  _ manicure _ car..”

“I.. I do not have words for how strange you are being,” Ron shook his head, coasting down the road a good eight more miles before he pulled into a ramshackle place with a faded, dirty yellow sign and a man in a sad-looking clown costume out front. “I was gonna make a  _ joke  _ about it and bring you here, but you just.. Seriously, Sam?”

He had stopped talking when he’d glanced over, seeing his daughter look like she normally would in a candy store. Bouncing in place and practically bolting out of the car the second he had it in park, her jacket and backpack left behind. “Now hold on-!”

“Manny-!” a man with a tan fedora and an ugly black and gold hawaiian print shirt screamed from just inside the work building, getting an impatient “What?” from the garage toward the back of the lot. “Get your cousin out of that damned clown suit. He’s having a heat stroke again. He’s scaring white-folks..”

“I’m hot-! Makeups melting-it hurts my eyes-!” the clown-clad man sounded off quickly, clearly in pain as he waved around the giant arrow reading “Best Wheel Deals Bobby B’s.”

“This is awesome, this is awesome~!” Sam squealed, pointedly keeping her eyes away from the yellow car that had pulled in just behind them as she started to look over the poorly kept models lined up in front of the main shop. “Thank you  _ so _ much, Daddy, I promise you won’t regret bringing me here.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that,” Ron muttered, more than confused and exasperated as his daughter skipped around from car to car, popping one hood and looking under before closing it again, moving to go next to his side just as a man with a wicked grin walked up to them.

“Gentleman, and Lady,” he greeted, holding out his hand to Ron first, before turning his smile to the teenage girl with wavy, wild brown hair looking like she was doped up on something big as she shook his hand, too, much more excitedly, “Welcome to Bobby Bolivia’s. Just like the country, except without the runs.”

There was a moment where he laughed, and Sam felt her heart beat even faster, burning with the need to make a run for the lot to look for her future baby.

Yes,  _ her baby _ . She wasn’t even going to hesitate to-

“Well, my daughter, here,” she felt her father pat her back, and she gave the car lot owner a convincing smile, “Is looking to buy her first car.”

“And you came to see me?” Bobby asked seriously.

“My first choice, hands down,” Sam grinned, an honest one as she nodded.

“That practically makes us family,” Bobby stated firmly, holding out his hand to her again and giving her a firm shake, which she readily returned. “Uncle Bobby B, sweetheart, Uncle Bobby B.”

“Sam,” she nodded.

“Sam,” he repeated, giving her another shake before winding an arm around her shoulder and leading her into a different part of the lot. “Let me talk to you. What type of car are you looking for today.”

“I want a muscle, not a manicure,” she started immediately, “Something in yellow, if you have it.”

“A muscle girl,” he squeezed her shoulder, and she could practically  _ hear _ the dollar signs ringing behind his eyes, “Sam, your first enchilada of freedom awaits underneath one of those hoods. Let me tell you something, hun, a driver don’t pick the car.” he stopped her just before a crossroads of lots, giving her a serious look, though he was smiling, “the car’ll pick the driver. It’s a mystical bond between man and machine. Sweetheart, I’m a lotta things, but a liar’s not one of ‘em. Especially not in front of my Mammy,” he took her shoulder, and turned her a bit to see a rather beautiful front lawn in front of a Hispanic-style home, two older woman sitting out in the yard in two beach chairs with big umbrellas shielding them from the harsh California sun. “That’s my Mammy. Hey Mammy-!” He raised his voice at the end, calling out to the woman while the one on the right barely glanced over before shoving her hand up, as well as her middle finger. Bobby didn’t act surprised.

“Oh, don’t be like that. If I had a rock, I’d bust your head, bitch. I tell ya’ hun, she’s deaf, you know?”

He let out a sad, choked sounding laugh, before patting her shoulder and actually leading her into the sea of cars. “Now over here, every piece of car you could ever want or need.” Bobby stopped just behind Bumblebee, and she remained planted in the front, leaning over it so she could splay her palms out flat over the chipped paint, closing her eyes with a smile.

“Oooh,” she whispered, “You are  _ so _ coming home with me..”

There was a bit of pressure against her fingers, but when she looked down the car was still, and she felt a smile tug at her lips before she shrugged, and looked towards her father, “I want this one. It’s got racing stripes.. And it’s yellow-!”

“Yeah,” Bobby agred, “It’s got racing..” he trailed off then, sounding confused, “Yeah, what’s- what the heck is this?”

Sam moved to driver’s side door, peering in at the sweet leather seats before glancing at the wheel, and promptly hurrying to sit inside.

_ I’m sitting in Bumblebee.. _

_ Okay.. Don’t panic, or squeal.. You can do that later.. Breathe.. _

“Hey, Manny-?! What is this-? This car-! Check it out-!” Bobby demanded, ignorant to the teen climbing inside and adjusting her seat ever so slightly, jolting a bit when it locked in place, and smiling as she reached forward for the wheel. She bit her lips, clenching and unclenching her fingers around the leather before bringing down her thumb to wipe away the soft bits of dirt on the center decal.

“I don’t know Boss, I’ve never seen that-! That’s loco-!”

“Don’t go Ricky Ricardo on me, Manny-! Find out-!”

“Feels good,” she whispered, blinking a little as she cleared off a bit more dirt, before reaching into her pocket, grabbing a folded-up bandanna before dabbing the end with her tongue and setting to clean it. She felt a shudder beneath her seat for a second, and she stopped, flexing her feet in front of the pedals before tucking the rag away, and adjusting herself in the seat again, getting comfortable. “Oh, you are  _ so _ coming home with me, I don’t even  _ care _ how much you cost.”

The radio gave a soft whir, and she hummed, in patient confusion, before sitting up as she heard her father’s question.

“How much?”

“Well,” Bobby let out a sigh, looking a bit torn about the wired car but confident as he quickly brushed it away, “considering the semi-classic nature of the vehicle, with the slick wheels and the custom paint job..”

“Custom my ass,” Sam muttered, but kept quiet.

“Five grand,” Bobby stated simply.

“Deal-!”

“No,” her father had overlapped her, and she looked absolutely baffled as she leaned her head out of the open window. “Dad-? What gives-? I brought you three you said you’d bring two-!”

“I’m not letting you pay over four grand for something like this,” he stated calmly, “If it were in a little better shape I would understand, but not like that.”

“Oh, Daddy,” Sam mumbled, sounded exasperated as she sunk back into the seat with a dejected expression, “Ugh.. I’m gonna have to work him over.. This isn’t gonna be fun..” she gave the dash a bit of a pat, before settling into lawyer mode, her face stern, “Dad we brought five today for my car.”

“No, I’m not letting you pay over four for that one,” Ron shook his head, then shot the dealer a look, “Sorry.”

“Kid,” Bobby called, bending down to see the girl in the seat looking more than a little annoyed, “Come get out. Get out of the car.”

“You said cars pick their drivers,” Sam pointed out, a frown on her face as she kept one hand on the wheel, and the other pressing firmly to the seat between her legs.

“Well, sometimes they pick a driver with a cheapass father,” Bobby shrugged, uncaring, “Out of the car.” He stood up then, while Sam made a groan of disdain, sighing as she pat the dash before getting out, though Bobby was still talking “Now, this one here for four G’s is a beaut-!”

“There’s a fiesta with racing stripes over there,” her father pointed out calmly, feeling a little bad about his denial to her choice, but there was no way he was letting his little girl get cheated on a car, even if it was her first.

“I don’t want a fiesta with racing stripes, Dad,” she sighed sharply, reigning in her annoyance. She had prepared for this problem, only for  _ canon  _ to take over. “That’s a  _ Manicure  _ car, the very kind I said I  _ didn’t  _ want.  _ Muscle _ , dad.  _ Muscle _ .”

What would that say about her wish to save Jazz?

“This is a classic engine right here,” Bobby spoke calmly, ducking into the bug beside Bumblebee with a grin on his face as his door hung open, “I sold a car the other day-”

Sam gently closed the door, and nearly jumped out of her skin when the passenger one swung out sharply, slamming into the car Bobby was trying to sell to her father. Knocking over a stand of oil and a trash can on the other side of that one in the process. Sam quickly covered her mouth with both hands, eyes wide in what she hoped was surprise as she struggled not to burst out laughing.

“Gee,” Ron winced, walking around the back of Bumblebee while Sam slowly lowered her hands and ducked to look inside the Autobot again, ignoring her father. “Holy cow. You alright?”

“No-no-no-! No worries!” Manny assured them quickly, hurriedly getting to his feet with a charming smile, though it looked pained and anxious as he tried to keep on the opposite side of the car to Bumblebee, his tone calming as he tried to keep his cool, “I’ll get a sledge hammer and knock this right out.. Hey, hey Manny-!” He raised his voice, clearly struggling to stay smiling as he spoke, “Get your clown cousin and get some hammers and come bang this stuff out, baby-!”

“ _ Greater than man..” _ The radio fritzed, and Sam moved to follow her father as she bit her lip, listening to Bobby ramble as he hurried to get away from the bug and point toward a car, much, much further away. “That one’s my favorite-! Drove it all the way from Alabammy-!”

The abrupt, loud explosion of sirens and glass exploded all around them, and Sam ducked her head quickly to cover her ears with her father as she waited for it to slow, then stop with a smug-sounded chirp of the alarm.

“Woow..” Sam whispered, taking a look at the destroyed lot before turning her eyes to the untouched Camaro, she sank her teeth into her lip, biting back a smile as she fought to keep her face straight.

“Four-thousand-!”

“Yes-!” Sam cheered, throwing her fists in the air before she practically dived for the Camaro and slid into the seat, seating herself backwards first and foremost to give the chair a tight hug, before turning herself around and closing the door. She moved to check the seat again, adjusting it one more time until she comfortably touched the pedals, before smiling, and turning the key in the ignition. Black smoke peppered out of the tailpipe, but she would clean that out later. “Oh honey, you are  _ so _ getting a bath later.. I’ll have you smelling like candy and coffee in a couple clicks.”

She felt the engine purr a little beneath her, straightening her back a bit as she sucked in a deep breath, before giving her dad a smile. “I’ll see you at home, Dad, is that okay?”

“When will you be back?” Ron sounded more than a little concerned.

“I’m just going to pick up Miles,” she shrugged, “He promised to help me wash my new car.”

“Alright, then,” he huffed, shaking his head before he nodded toward the car, “Do you need your bag and your jacket?”

“I’ll get ‘em now,” she smiled, carefully pulling the car into drive and coasting it towards the exit. She stopped a moment just beside her dad’s car to get her things, before shoving her jacket in her bag, and putting that into the passenger seat. Moving to sit once again, she ran an appreciative hand along the top of the car before slipping inside and buckling up. 

“Alright, Honey,” she smiled, glancing at the “Bee-otch” scent ornament and the disco ball. “Let’s get you home and clean.”

The engine gave a rev, and she was driving off with a hollar of joy.

_ She had a bad-ass alien baby now.. _

* * *

“Miles-!” she groaned, glaring at Jonathan while he stood in the doorway of their home, his eyes stuck on her and the Camaro at her hip, “Come  _ on- _ ! I wanna get him clean before the party-!”

“Yeah, yeah-!” the blonde harped back, tucking himself into shotgun while his brother stared open mouthed, and she quickly sat back before bringing the car to drive away, “I couldn’t find my swim trunks. Are you wearing  _ that _ to clean your car?”

“Hell no,” She scoffed, “These are some of my favorite jeans. I’ll put something else on.”

“So we’re doing this by hand,” Miles sounded more resigned with the statement, and she nodded firmly, “Yep. I don’t trust car washes, they rarely get  _ everything _ clean..”

“Right,” Miles sighed, shaking his head, “Of course that would bother  _ you _ ..”

“I love cars,” Sam glared at him, before bringing her eyes quickly back to the road, “Do not question me on my method of caring for them.”

“Right, right,” Miles rolled his eyes, adjusting in his seat, “This is like, seriously uncomfortable, like sitting on concrete.”

“Seriously,” she quirked an eyebrow up, “Feels fine on my end. Comfy as hell.”

“Ugh,” Miles groaned, “Must have just had one driver before. I might need to break it in.”

“You will break  _ nothing _ in,” Sam stated immediately, “If you want it more comfortable,  _ I’ll _ break the leather in. This is  _ my _ baby, and I will be as gentle as possible.”

“And you think I won’t be?” Miles sounded a little offended.

“You smashed my projector in the garage,” she deadpanned.

“You said it was unbreakable,” Miles defended.

“I said the  _ plan _ was for it to be unbreakable,” Sam scoffed, then smiled, “But seriously, if it’s stiff, I’ll work on it later. Let’s just focus on getting him washed for now.”

“Right, it’s a him,” Miles rolled his eyes, “And does this, masculine piece of metal have a name?”

“I’m thinking SweetSpark,” she grinned, jolting back a bit when the engine kicked in with a roar, and settled.

“Okay,” Miles murmured, looking a little freaked by the sudden jolt, “That was a little weird.”

“Oh well,” Sam smiled, “Worry about it later.”

“I hate how calm you are about stuff like this,” Miles grumbled.

“Ava’s going to be at the party tonight,” Sam stated calmly.

Mile’s silence was enough for her to laugh.

* * *

Sam checked herself in the mirror before she left her room, adjusting the black bikini-top with the yellow hearts screen-printed on it and the short jean cutoffs she’d gotten a few years back. They were little tight, but made her feel hot, so she kept them.

Slinging a towel over her shoulder, and tying her hair up into a long ponytail, she fixed her bangs back over her forehead and beside her face before slipping on her yellow flip flops and moving to hurry outside. Miles was already working on filling six buckets up with water, two of which had soap, the other four for rinsing later. She double checked that they both had sponges, and she set out the wax on the driveway before flinging the towel to the ground, perking her head up when she heard a radio-feed wolf whistle and spinning on her heel to shoot Miles an unimpressed look. Predictably, he held his hands up high, backing away from her car with a shake of his head. “I  _ so _ did not do that..”

“So what, the  _ car _ did it?” she asked in a bland tone, rolling her eyes before she bent down and snatched a sponge from the buckets, wringing it out a bit before moving to start on the drivers side while Mile’s hesitated, then got to work on the passenger. She rubbed diligently at the spots where dried mud seemed to stick and being thorough with her cleaning. Once she had made her way onto the hood, the radio glitched again, and she watched as Miles dropped the sponge in his hand and jump away.

_ “Shake-baby-shake-baby-one-two-three-four-shake-baby” _

“Oh this is  _ so _ my car,” Sam actually laughed, rocking on her heels a bit as the rap came on, “It’s even got a radio glitch. That’s  _ awesome _ .”

“I think your car is possessed,” Miles grimaced, taking an actual step back as he watched his friend’s sway a little bit in time with the weird car’s music, “Did anybody die in it, at any point, or..?”

“Hmm?” she stopped her impromptu dancing and gave her friend a frown, “I don’t think so. Then again it’s not like property, they don’t have to  _ legally _ tell you that someone’s died there.”

“Well,” Miles murmured, shaking his head before he hesitantly reached through the open window and flicked the radio, hearing the channel’s shuffled angrily before he turned it to something a bit less.. Provocative. “Let’s not play bunny car wash, huh? I rather like it when you keep your clothes  _ on _ -” A sponge met his face, and he carefully wiped away the suds before he’d narrowed his eyes. “Challenged accepted.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Ahh-!” Sam screamed, using her arms to shield her face as she ducked beneath the bumper of the car, dodging the soapy rag as she hurried to dart around. She stood back up when there was quiet, and she pat the back bumper once in acknowledgement before she was being pelted with ice-cold water. “AHH-! Miles-! Nonono-! AHHH-!” she laughed a little as she ducked away, snatching up her sponge before she’d dunked it in a soapy bucket and hurried to the hood. She was drenched in water and her shorts were plastered to her skin, but she was grinning, despite the glare on her friend who blew on the top of the nozzle like a used gun. “You cheater-! Using the hose is foul play-!”

“You only say that because I thought of it first-!” Miles cackled, brandishing the hose again but stopping when a feminine voice called out from the house, “I hope to God that you’re not drenching my flowers out there-!”

“No Ma-!” Sam called quickly, swatting at her friend before motioning him to get the other sponge, “Just washing up Sweet-Spark-!

The engine revved, and she jumped, turning just enough that her hip bumped into the headlight. “Damn-! You scared the hell outta me..” rolling her eyes, she heard the volume lower, before the dial switched, Miles giving her an odd look before rolling his eyes. “Oh God..”

“ _ How you doin’ young Lady.. The Feelin’ that you’re givin’ really drives’ me crazy..” _

“Promiscuous?” Sam murmured, listening to the beat before shaking her head, “You asked for it.”

“ _ You’re dope- have a player by the choke- I was lost for words first time that we spoke-” _

“You’re lookin’ for a girl that’ll treat you right,” Sam pitched in without pause, swinging her hair back before she started scrubbing at the hood, hearing a waver in the radio before it hitched up in the volume a bit louder. “You’re looking for her in the daytime with the light-!”

“ _ You might be the type- if I play my cards right- I’ll find out by the end of the night-” _

“You expect me to just let you hit it-!” Sam grinned, keeping one hand on the hood while she reached out as far as she could with her body to clean the windshield. She was being a bit mean, pressing her torso to the glass, but he was being a bit of a brat, too, so she called it fair, “But will you still respect me if you get it-?”

“ _ All I can do is try, give me one chance-! _ ” Miles was shaking his head at the scene, rolling his eyes before settling his face in his palms and plopping his hind end down on the driveway. He would have prefered the soft grass, but Sam’s dad would skin him if he did.

“ _ What’s the problem I don’t see no ring on your hand- I’ll be the first to admit it- I’m curious about you, you seem so innocent-” _

“You wanna get in my world, get lost in it,” Sam nodded, working on the hood next as much as she could reach, before she paused, braced herself back a step, then hopped up into the very top of the roof. Miles looked more than a little startled, btu kept silent, letting his friend be as weird as she wanted as she washed with the rhythm of the radio, “Boy I’m tired a runnin’ let’s walk for a minute..”

Sam washed figure eights into the car at the chorus. “ _ Promiscuous girl.. Wherever you are.. I’m all alone.. And it’s you that I want..” _

“Promiscuous boy.. you already know..” Sam sang back brightly, swaying her shoulders with the tune as she bent a bit to get the parts of the windshield she couldn’t reach, before parking down her butt and working on the back windshield, “that I’m all yours.. What you waiting for..?”

“ _ Promiscuous girl,” _ she felt the engine rumble as she laughed, crossing her legs so she could slid her soaked keester down the back window and carefully slide herself off of the back, though it jumped a bit when she ‘accidentally’ swat the bumper on her way down. “ _ You’re teasing me.. You know what I want.. And I got what you need..”  _ “Promiscuous boy~ Let’s get to the point~ Cause we're on a roll, you ready~?” She popped out her hip a bit and started a bit of the actual dance, using her feet as she worked back a few steps and kept her shoulders and back loose, working through the rhythm like she would with her cousins, “Roses are red some diamonds are blue- Chivalry is dead, but you’re still kinda cute.”

“ _ Hey- I can’t keep my mind off you-! Where you at, do you mind, if I come through?” _

“I’m out of this world- come with me to my planet-” the grin on her face wouldn’t fade for the life of her, and she swung and twisted her hips like she always used to practice with Chrys and Skit. “Meet you on my level- do you think you can handle it?”

“ _ They call me Thomas- last name Crown. Recognize Game Imma lay mines down.” _

“Imma big girl I can handle myself,” she popped out her hips again, swinging her arms with the twist until she was practically freestyling in the middle of the driveway next to her empty car. “But if I get lonely I may need your help. Pay attention to me I don’t talk for my health.”

“ _ I want you on my team _ -”

“So does everybody else,” she shrugged.

“ _ Baby we can keep it on the low, let your guard down ain’t nobody gotta know. If you’re with it girl, I know a place we can go.” _

“What kind of girl do you take me for?” 

She grabbed the sponge while he played the chorus, swinging her hips a bit as she shimmied to the beat, moving to clean Miles side because clearly he figured a nap in the shade of her garage was more important than her baby.

Simpleton.

_ “Promiscuous girl.. Wherever you are.. I'm all alone.. And it's you that I want” _

“Promiscuous boy.. You already know.. That I'm all yours.. What you waiting for?”

_ “Promiscuous girl.. You're teasing me.. You know what I want.. And I got what you need.” _

“Promiscuous boy.. Let's get to the point, Cause we'r e on a roll.. You ready?”

_ “Don't be mad, don't get mean.” _

“Don't get mad, don't be mean.”

_ “Hey! Don't be mad, don't get mean.” _

“Don't get mad, don't be mean.”

_ “Wait! I don't mean no harm.. I can see you with my t-shirt on.” _

“I can see you with nothing on.. Feeling on me before you bring that on.”

_ “Bring that on?” _

“You know what I mean.”

_ “Girl, I'm a freak you shouldn't say those things.” _

“I'm only trying to get inside of your brain.. To see if you can work me the way you say.”

_ “It's okay, it's alright.. I got something that you gon' like..” _

“Is it the truth, are you talking trash? Is your game M.V.P. like Steve Nash?”

_ “Promiscuous girl.. Wherever you are.. I'm all alone.. And it's you that I want..” _

“Promiscuous boy.. I'm calling your name.. But you're driving me crazy.. The way you're making me wait..”

“ _ Promiscuous girl.. You're teasing me.. You know what I want.. And I got what you need..” _

“Promiscuous boy.. We're one in the same.. So we don't gotta play games no more.”

As the beat faded out, she finished up the last of Mile’s side, shooting the sleeping boy a glare and folding her arms across the top of the car, resting her chin on her arms with a huff as she examined her father working on his path. He’d dismissed her weirdness immediately, knowing they had hedges and she danced around without prompt on her own time.

She hummed a little, smiling at the clean finish, before stepping away and moving to grab the bottle of wax and a clean rag. As she squirt some into the soft blue fabric, she quirked her eyebrow as other song came on, smiling as the abrupt melody started up. “ _ Four, tres, two, uno-! _ ”

First it was Fergalicious, then Lips of an Angel, then it was Irreplaceable, a handful of songs she only vaguely remembered as she wiped down and vacuumed the inside, and she finished, patting his hood before she reached in to turn off the radio. The radio wavered for just a second, before she shut it off again, giving the dash a consoling pat before carefully pulling herself out of the cab. “Miles-! I’ve gotta change then we can head out, kay?”

“Huh-wha?” the blond jolting awake, sniffing as he rubbed his face clear of sleep and gave his friend a confused look. “We’re done with the car?”

“ _ I’m _ done with the car,” she corrected him simply, “ _ You _ fell asleep.”

“Oh,” he murmured, rubbing his eyes. “Whoops. Sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rolling her eyes before she handed him the soapy buckets, “Dump that in the drain down the street. I’m going to go shower and change, then we can get McDonalds and go to the party.”

“Sweet,” Miles grinned, taking the buckets with ease and jogging past the now shining Camaro in the driveway with wet pavement beneath it. 

She threw the leather wipes in the trash before she headed upstairs, pulling her hair down from it’s pony and hopping in for a quick shower to get rid of the chemical smell. Blow drying her hair took a few more minutes, before she slipped on a pair of jean capris, and a white crop-top with the words “These Aren’t My Eyes” in blocky letters. She shrugged on her favorite zip-up hoodie, a blue one she’d payed to commission for a screen-print red and blue flames from the bottom and on the sleeves.

She also had a Bumblebee one she’d made, but that one was in her closet.

Hurrying outside, she caught the tail end of her mother’s complaint, “Couldn’t we have hired a professional?”

“He wants to do it himself, Ma,” Sam sighed, carefully traversing the path before giving her mother a kiss on the cheek, “It’s a man’s thing. Like I am with my car stuff.”

“I wish you’d pay more attention to  _ girl _ things,” her mother huffed, more than a little upset as she watched her daughter kiss her keys before hurrying down the path. “I want you home at eleven o’clock-!”

“Yes Ma-!” she called, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she pulled open the door of her baby, giving it a soft pat before she ducked inside and closed it. “Eleven o’clock-!” Her father repeated sternly.

“Yes Dad-!” She nodded, with the same tone, before fixing herself in the seat, wiggling a bit to find a comfortable position and feeling the car shake ever so slightly before she pat the dash, and turned to her right, just as Miles ducked into the car, too, having changed out of his swim trunks in the garage, though they stayed in his bag with two towels in case he felt like swimming at the lake. She didn’t plan too. 

“Please for the love of God, drive safely-!” Judy called.

“I will, Ma-!” Sam called, sighing a bit before she nudged her friend’s arm. “Shall we?” She flicked the shades down over her eyes, and he laughed a little before gesturing to the road. 

They were off.

* * *

“Keep that food in the damned bag,” Sam bristled, glaring at Miles until he had placed the still-wrapped burger back into its carrier, “I  _ just _ vacuumed in here. Eat it at the lake.”

“Jeez, are you going to baby this thing like you did do that moped when you were fourteen?” Miles made an uncomfortable face.

“Hell yes,” Sam nodded firmly, “He’s my  _ baby _ , Miles. We discussed this, SweetSpark comes first.” 

“It’s a car, Sammy,” Miles scowled, “It doesn’t have an opinion.”

The carl lurched a bit, but didn’t stop, and Sam had to scramble for a moment to check the lanes before shooting Mile’s an offended look. “Watch it, Miles. This beauty decided it would be a nice idea to blow out fifty cars worth of windows at the lot so the dealer would sell him to us for four grand.” Miles looked more than a little concerned.

The car rumbled at an intersection, and she smiled a little as she pat the dash before it flicked to ‘Shut Up and Drive’ by Rihanna. 

“Oh, sassy,” she grinned, glancing at her friend as they reached the outside of town, setting her hand on the gear shift before cranking it up and gradually pressing down her foot. “Alright Sweet Spark.. Let’s see how fast you go..”

* * *

“SAM, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN-!!!”

* * *

“OH MY GOD, SAM WE’RE GONNA DIE-!!!”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam slid smoothly to the side of the road of the path to the lake, smiling as she turned off the car and swung the keys around her pinkie. Miles was white as a sheet, clutching the ‘oh shit’ handle above his door for dear life while she rolled her eyes and casually stepped out of the car. She flicked her eyes around the lake, whistling a little in surprise at the number of people before shrugging it off and closing the door. She paused a second to take a look in the side-view mirror to fix her braid, then pressing a kiss, leaving a soft pink kiss-print behind before she got to her feet again and moved to walk towards some people she actually knew.

It took Miles a minute to wretch himself out of the car, and when he did, he scrambled to his knees in the grass and praised the ground with a cry of joy.

“Drama queen-!” Sam scoffed.

“You-..” Miles winced, shaking his head before he ran his hands through his hair and got to his feet, “No, whatever, I’m  _ so _ not getting into the car  _ ever _ again.. It is  _ so _ haunted-!”

“So?” Sam frowned, shaking her head before she looped an arm around his and dragged him toward the lake area, “Ava’s over there.. Your hair is fine, take a deep breath, and-” she shoved him forward, towards the woman in question before doubling back to hide behind a tree, giving him a thumbs up from where she stood with a grin on her face as he glared at her. Turning back around, he marched himself to a place in the grass with four other girls on the less-prissy side of the food chain.

“Nice car,” a voice called, and she jerked a little in her place before she turned her head, looking toward Trent, who stood with his ridiculous and unnecessary truck with Mikaela hanging off of his back with a curious smile. 

“Thanks,” she deadpanned, “He likes to go fast.”

“So,” Trent walked out from around the truck, stopping a few feet away from her with a tight smile. He probably was upset about the rejection earlier that day.. Sucks for him. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Hanging out,” Sam shrugged, “Ignoring you. Things we do on regular days.”

“Ahaha.. Funny,” he chuckled, a bit of bite to his voice as his nose twitched. Looked like a damn bulldog. “Didn’t that guy try out for the football team last year?”

“Oh yes, he did, but he didn’t do it seriously,” Sam stated calmly, remembering the trainwreck that was Miles trying to prove a point to her on the feild, and not making the team, “He was helping me do research for a book that I’m writing.”

“Oh yeah?” he sounded actually interested, but he was clearly annoyed that she had brought Miles, one of the people on his loser list, to a party he was attending. “What was it about? Sucking at sports?”

“No, no,” Sam shook her head, shrugging a little as she checked the paint on her nails, still a sweet, untouched lavender, “I was looking into the link between brain damage and football, Miles was an awesome guinea pig, though maybe I should have interviewed  _ you _ ..” Trent tensed up a little, looking angry, but she quickly continued, her voice relaxed, and rather conversational, “I’m sure you and your friends would love it, actually.. It’s got pop-up pictures.. Mazes, little coloring areas-  _ loads _ of fun..

“That’s really funny,” Trent stated lowly, looking either ready to beat her up or storm away. Seems Mikaela didn’t want to take any chances on either, and quickly put herself between the two, running her hands across her boyfriend’s chest. “Okay, okay, you know what? Stop.”

Mikaela walked away, and Sam rolled her eyes as she glanced toward Miles, who was, actually getting somewhere with Ava, if the way he was dramatically telling a story with his voice and hands and the way she was leaning in was any indication.

“Hey, I know of a party-! Let’s go, let’s head-!” Trent called, Sam rolling her eyes again before she moved to go right back to her baby. She would get her phone from her purse, call Miles for the detail, then hopefully leave.

She used her open window as a stomach rest and stretched to get her bag from the back seat, pulling her phone from her purse pocket and hauling herself back out to bring it to her ear. She waited until Miles had picked up, before she immediately asked, “Do you need a ride, or can I leave? I only showed up in the first place so you could see Ava.”

“Yeah, no, no-no, I’m good, you’re good to go..”

She scoffed through her nose, smiling as she watched Ava and Miles inch ever closer at a snail’s pace. “Alright,” she smiled, “Later Miles. Get home safe.”

She hung up when he didn’t respond, too busy watching as his face got closer and closer to Ava David’s, before chuckling to herself and slipping into her car. She started it up, and looked up with surprise as she watched Mikaela walk down the road.

“Hmm..” she bit her lip, glancing toward her dash before patting it, and moving to shift it into drive. “Alright, no sappy love songs, but I think she needs a ride.”

The engine revved, and she scoffed, shaking her head before she slid along the road beside the walking girl.

“Hey-! Banes-!”

Mikaela didn’t look over, or stop, so she rolled her eyes, and continued coasting with the girl’s pace, “Fellow female who has doth been offended-! Do you need a ride to your house or not-?!”

She stopped the car, and Mikaela turned, probably checking that it wasn’t one of the girls in Trent’s clique, before moving to the passenger door and sliding in. Sam nodded, and set the gear again, before coasting calmly at a respectable speed limit, she wasn’t close enough acquaintances with this girl to be at the ‘crazy-driving is cool’ stage like she was with Miles.

He just had a weak stomach.

“So..” she murmured, flicking her eyes to the girl beside her before pinning them back to the road, “What did douchenozzle say to make you hit the curb running?”

“I can’t believe that I’m here right now..”

Sam hitched up an eyebrow, then shrugged, “Well I’m not going to be offended if you want to duck beneath the window. Honest.”

“Oh,” she perked up then, as if breaking from her thoughts, and shook her head, “Oh, no-no-no. I didn’t mean here with  _ you _ . I just meant, like, in this situation.. This  _ same _ situation that I’m always in. ‘Cause, I don’t know , I guess I just have a  _ weakness  _ for hot guys,” she gestured in front of her, making a small sort of reverence, “for.. For tight abs and  _ really  _ big arms..”

“Big arms,” Sam repeated, a bit of a laugh in her voice before she shook her head. “Honey, if you knew how weak-kneed I get when I look at a boy with his hair dyed red you would feel  _ no _ shame..”

“Dyed red?” Mikaela repeated, sounding genuinely curious, “like ..?”

“I like how intense their personalities tend to get,” Sam grinned, “This one boy I knew in middle school.. Total, total heartthrob, I do not lie, if he had ever dyed his hair I would not have been able to keep myself from jumping him.”

“Seriously?” Mikaela smiled.

“Seriously,” Sam nodded.

“Are.. Are you new to school this year?” Mikaela asked, a bit more friendly as she turned a little in her seat. “It’s your first year, here?”

“Ah, no,” Sam chuckled, shaking her head just as she said it with a bit of a smile, “No, no actually, we’ve been in the same school since first grade.”

“Really?” Mikaela sounded legitimately stunned.

“Yep,” Sam nodded, checking her speed before she nodded to herself, “Long time..”

“Well, do..” Mikaela tried, then shook her head, and tried again, “Do we have any classes together?” 

“A-yep,” Sam nodded, relaxed as she settled one hand on the wheel, and let the other hand on the door, gently tapping her fingers against the yellow paint with a smile.

“Really?” Mikaela sounded both confused, and a bit guilty, “Which?”

“History,” she stated calmly, “Language Arts, Math, Science-”

“Sam,” Mikael cut in.

“There ya’ got it,” Sam grinned, giving her a smile before settling back into her seat.

“Sam ..Wilkicky?” Mikaela tried.

“Wit-wicky,” Sam nodded, “Like Wikipedia.”

“Oh,” the raven nodded, smiling apologetically, “God, you know what? I’m so sorry. I just..”

“No, it’s cool,” Sam assured her, but Mikaela shook her head, “I just didn’t recognize you..”

“That was the idea,” Sam smiled, shaking her off with a wave of her hand, “I try to be as invisible as possible. The only reason I’m friends with Miles is because he practically forced me to be his friend in elementary.”

“Really?” Mikaela sounded confused, “Miles is.. That guy you were with..? The guy that went to Ava?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “I drove him here so he could work up the nerve to ask her out. I’d rather be in my garage working on my baby than at a party filled with jocks..”

“By, in your garage, you mean..?” Mikaela looked confused.

“Working on my car,” Sam gave her a slight smile, before turning back to the road, “I’m kind of a grease monkey. I love cars and learning how technology works. That thing you saw in class? I made that a few months ago, figured I’d wait until I was a hundred percent sure all the kinks were worked out before I showed it off.”

“That weird screen thing,” Mikaela nodded, “Like.. the holographic thing?”

“Yeah.”

“That was you?”

“Mhm,” Sam nodded, “Like I said.. Grease monkey..”

“That’s.. Pretty cool,” Mikaela offered after a second, “I like cars, too. My dad was a real grease monkey, so he taught me everything about them..”

“Glad we have a common interest,” Sam smiled, they were pulling closer to civilization now. “Do you want coffee before you get back? It’ll be a bit of a drive..”

“Thanks,” Mikaela nodded, relaxing into the passenger seat as they drove past the city limit sign.

_ Welcome to Tranquility. _


	7. Chapter 7

“Here you are,” Sam pulled to a stop outside of the Banes residence, smiling thankfully that there were no unscheduled pit stops and that she had gotten Mikaela hooked on caramel Frappes. “Don’t be creeped out if I wait for you to get inside. I’ve got a moral rule about it, so..”

“No, it’s cool, so.. Thanks for listening, you know..” Mikaela smiled, biting her lip a bit as she looked down into her frothy cup. 

“Any time,” Sam shrugged, nodding toward her phone, “If you ever wanna talk, you have my number now.”

“Do.. Do you think I’m shallow?”

“Shallow?” Sam repeated, paused, thought it over, then shook her head, “Not particularly.. I mean, you could do with a little less of Trent’s pheromones in your general breathing space and a little more confidence, but.. I think you’re pretty cool.”

Mikaela actually laughed at that, before she nodded, and grabbed her purse, as well as her fast-food bag, and got out of the car.

“Alright, I’ll.. see you at school,” Mikaela nodded through the window.

“Later Banes,” Sam called, waving a little before the young woman nodded, and moved to walk up the stairs. Sam waited up until Mikaela had fully shut the door before she smiled, and leaned over to pet her dash gently, “Oh, you are such a great car..” She grinned a little as she flicked the engine out of idle and moved to turn it out toward the street. The ride home was filled with music, including one passionately done cover of ‘Welcome To the Black Parade’. 

She pulled up into her driveway, sighing in relief that it was barely ten. She was careful where she parked, and kissed the glass of the window before she headed inside, making sure to give the car one last longing look before slipping through the door and shutting it behind her.

* * *

Sleep didn’t come easy, but she managed to slip on her running clothes and sneakers before she fell back onto the mattress.

She had just been able to close her eyes for about an hour before she woke up abruptly to the sound of her baby’s engine.

She bolted out of bed on the spot, practically tearing her way out of the room and down the stairs, calling for her father to call the police before she was hopping onto her moped and coasting her way out of the garage with her phone pressed ot her ear.

_ Did she need to? _

Yes.

_ Why did she need to? _

So S7 got a clue of where she was.

“Tranquility Police Department, what is your emergency?”

“Yes, hello,” she exclaimed breathlessly, still a bit tired but pushing through it with a frown, keeping her eyes on the ss of her car and a hand on her steering, “I’m currently following my car, it was stolen out of my driveway and I’m keeping as close to it as I can on my moped. I was hoping there was someone on duty you could send to intercept it.”

“What is the description of the vehicle that has been stolen?”

“No, not stolen,” Sam corrected quickly, a little impatient, she wanted this to be over with already, “ _ Currently _ being stolen-! I have it right in front of me so if you could just-”

“Ma’am, it’s late, and I don’t think that the officers would appreciate a crank call at such a late hour-”

“I’m not prank calling you-!” Sam sighed, sharp and annoyed as she grit her teeth, then gave up, “You know what, whatever, this is why I don’t deal with cops. For fucks sake,” she shut the phone, and shoved it into her pocket, grimacing as she crossed through the downtown area and had to come to a halt at the railroad tracks. She frowned, wincing a little at the broken chains before biting her lip and cursing under her breath.

That was going to scratch, and she damn well knew it.

She waited impatiently as the train slugged along, tapping her foot against the gravel before she left her moped by the entry and hurried to run in on foot.

She stopped just inside the first pile of junk, looking toward the right and crouching down behind the mess as she eyed the giant, metal-covered  _ being _ in the distance. Sucking in a deep breath, she sighed, and flicked out her phone, sounding more than a little annoyed, “Okay, so, I’m making this video for all the lovely viewers out there who are  _ not _ in a position to be biased..” She levelled her phone with the scene before her, making sure there was barely a glimpse, and it was much too blurry, before she hurried to bring it back down to her level behind the heaps. “My car is.. Not the inanimate, non-sentient being that it appeared to be when I bought it earlier today.. Or yesterday, if we want to be technical.. I am.. Concerned, about whether or not I will be leaving this entire situation alive, and for anyone who finds this, please inform my family that I care for them deeply, including my dog, Mojo.”

There. Done.

She clicked the phone closed, and shoved it back in her pocket, perking up a bit at the sound of low, curious growling.

_ Oh shit. _

Shitshitshitshitshit-!

She took off running just before she heard the dogs start barking. Although there was nothing menacing about it, she still ran off like a bat out of hell. Big dogs meant lots of dog drool when they kissed you and bigger claws to accidentally tear your clothes.

She rather liked this tracksuit, thank you very much.

She kicked it into high gear when she heard the bricks break, practically bolting for the woodchip mill and sprinting through the back pathway. She nearly fell through a pile of the loose stuff but recovered, and continued to kick up dust until she made it into a familiar, round room with basins stacked in the center. She hurtled herself toward the basins, scrambling to get up atop them and bracing her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, flinching at the sound of the dogs as they bolted in a second later and started, loudly, demanding she play with them, barking at her heels and jumping excitedly around her.

_ Big-dogs-big-dogs-! _

She shot her eyes up when she heard a familiar rumble, and the wooden support beams near the entrance going down as the familiar yellow Camaro forced itself through with a domineering roar of it’s engine, causing the dogs to whimper, and quickly retreat in the opposite direction.

Poor dogs..

_ Holy shit.. _

She took off running the second he was out of the way, and she cursed herself for not saying a word as she hurried to exit the mill. She nearly ran face-first into a cop car on the way, and almost collapsed with exhaustion and irritation as they hurried out of their car, guns raised. 

“Let me see your hands-!” the passenger demanded.

She did so without question, sniffing a little as she eyed the gun on her, mentally cackling before she relaxed back into silence. “Walk towards the car-!” the same officer demanded again, this time a bit more impatiently, though Sam did so with slow, even steps before she stopped right in front of the hood.

“Put your head on the hood.”

She did so with a gentle bend.

_ I hate this part. _

* * *

“Look I can’t be any clearer, than how crystal clear that I am being,” Sam spoke slowly, and softly, exhaustion in her eyes and annoyance on her face. “It just. Stood up.”

“It just stood up,” the man in front of her, sitting on the desk, was trying  _ way _ too hard to appeal to the younger generation, looking more like a crackhead than a Federal Officer. “Wow.. that’s really neat,” he deadpanned, the man off to her right side who had leaned on the desk beside her exhausted, and irritated father shaking his head before standing to go do something else. Though she was more sure it was for the officer in front of her than herself, even the other policemen had shot the one “interrogating” her for the last four hours dirty, annoyed looks at his comments and behavior.

_ Man, did that guy need to adjust his fucking attitude... _

“Ok, princess,” he grunted, reaching over the desk he was sitting on and swiping a tissue from the container, as well as a bottle with empty labels. “Time to fill her up.”

Sam took the items with obvious disgust, turning her eyes to her father and flicking them to the officer at the term he’d used.  _ Seriously- _ Oh, her father was glaring at  _ him _ now..  _ Yikes _ she was  _ so _ not getting into that..

“What are you rolling?” the officer asked quietly, his eyes intensely locked on her face as she turned her eyes to him, looking confused. “Whippets, Goofballs, a little wowie sauce with the girls.. Or guys?”

_ He did not just fucking- _

“I’m not on any drugs,” she snapped, her irritation actually showing as she shot the man a look that would singe titanium.

“What’s these?” the man asked smugly, holding up his hand and catching the bottle tossed to him from one of the men at the side of the room, looking like he wanted to be anywhere,  _ anywhere at all _ , rather than there. She didn’t blame the wall guy.

He shook the bottle, getting her attention like a dog, the act making her even angrier as her eyes got darker.  _ This son of a bitch _ . “Found it in your pocket,” he said, with a fake air of calm, sniffing as he turned the label, and repeated the word “Mojo” in a sultry tone.

She wanted to gag.

“Is that what the kids are doing now?” he asked casually, shrugging his shoulder a little, pointedly ignoring the slow shake of her head from side to side, and the pointed, incredulous look she shot her father, then the man by the wall, “Little bit of  _ Mojo _ ?”

“Those are my dogs pain pills,” she deadpanned, “And again, I don’t do drugs.”

“You know, a Chihuahua,” her father spoke up, both tired, and completely done with the situation as he motioned his hands in a small form in front of him, “A little..”

The man rolled his eyes at her father’s comment, making her father get even angrier, though his was a silent fuming, the officer working up his arm enough that his jacket opened to pointedly show off his pistol in his harness. Her eyes flashed to the weapon, then up to the man’s face when he perked up, a sick sort of smile on his face as if she’d just made a joke. “What was that?”

She slowly raised her eyebrows up, keeping her eyes on his as she tilted her head, and frowned.

“You eyeballing my piece fifty-cent?” he asked, his voice a pitch higher and his eyebrows raised almost comically as he pointed to the weapon, though her eyes stayed locked on his. “You wanna go?” he looked itching for a fight, and after she caught him glancing down at her tight grey shirt and her track pants, a burning itch to put him in his place festered, all she had to do was hope he- “Make something happen,” he goaded softly,  _ wait for it-  _ “Do it. Cause I promise you, girlie.. I  _ will _ bust you up.”

The words had barely left his mouth before her fist swung out, clocking him in the face and sending him flying back as she crossed a leg over her knee, and sat back in her seat.

“Motherfucker-!” the man roared clutching his face as the officers rushed to either help him up or hover close to her, seemingly set to restrain her but seeing her sitting calmly as she gave them a frown. “What the fuck-?! Oww-!”

“Samantha-?” Her father snapped, and she looked to her father in confusion, “Why did you do that?”

“He was staring at my boobs and he was provoking me,” she grimaced, “I’m sure the two other people in this room are witness enough to his awful behavior, and I’d like to put in an official request that he receive a drug test. Like  _ now _ .”


	8. Chapter 8

“Samantha,” her mother was on her in an instant, fussing over her hair and shoulders before giving her a hug tight enough to relocate a few internal organs, “Oh my god- your father called me and when he talked about how that nasty officer was treating you.”

“Yeah, I got him with ‘unnecessary hostility’ and there’s a good chance he’s getting busted for pot,” she shrugged. Hugging her mother back tightly before sighing with a hand running down her face, “I just.. I need sleep, and food, and..”

“Say no more,” her mother pecked her on both cheeks, before pressing her to go upstairs. “Your father and I will be out most of the day to spend time with his mother, but I think you need rest.. All of those car fumes must have gone to your head young lady..”

“Yes Ma,” she whispered, giving her another hug before marching herself to the stairs. 

She would change clothes,  _ then _ eat..

Slipping on her combat boots, which had costed a mighty fortune, as well as some stylish dull green cargo pants and a black T-shirt with a screen-printed drawing on the back and front right pocket-space. The back had big, bold white letters writing out ‘No Sacrifice, No Victory’, and on her breast pocket was the same half-autobot-half-decepticon insignia she had stitched into her pillow cases, blankets, a few pairs of jeans and everything that her grandmother made for her. Sam was more than grateful for how the woman had kept her sane during her younger years.

She grabbed her bag of extra things, frowning as she checked it over, before moving to go downstairs. She set her bag in the corner of the kitchen, being sure to check her watch before she trumped down the stairs in search for food.

Her parents were already gone, and her mother left a note with the words for her to be home by eleven on it and a reminder to take out the trash. She also quickly sped-washed the dishes, swept the kitchen floor, and wiped down the counters before running back inside.

She had just pulled out the box of poptarts and started to rip one open when Mojo came scuttling in, growing under his breath until he’d crawled up onto the counter to bark out the window.

“Mojo, please don’t bark,” she whispered, tucking the box of poptarts into her backpack, along with the rest of her granola and energy bars, and three bottles of water. She heard a familiar rev, and she paused, pushing aside the kitchen curtain to watch as the driverless, yellow Camaro pulled into the driveway.

_ Fuck-fuck-okay-.. Just.. stick to the plan.. You can get Barricade later.. _

She set the bag back in the corner, and ducked under the sight of the window, crawling along until she had made it to the door that connected to the garage. She barely peeked inside, grateful that the door was closed, before picking up her moped in one hand and squeezing it and herself into the main house, through the hallway, before setting it on the front porch and taking off with a snap of her helmet.

She heard the familiar reving of the engine, right before it started to follow her, her eyebrows shooting up as she dared a look behind her, swallowing at the fact that he was only keeping pace with the twenty feet of distance.

She wound up blazing around corners and ducking through traffic, until she managed to hit a concrete shoulder looking over her own to check for Bumblebee.

She really shouldn’t have done that.

Head over feet she shot over the shoulder, knocking herself to the ground while her moped tumbled over her then to the side, leaving her sprawled out in front of the balcony of the local Burger King.

_ Ffffuuuuuucck. _

“Sam?”

_ FUCKFUCKFUCK- _

“Hiya Banes,” she groaned, sitting up quickly to rub her aching neck before she hurried to get to her shaking knees.

“That was- uh.. That was really awesome,” she was hovering over the brunette then, concern on her modelesque face as the brunette pulled out of her grip and hurried to right the royal blue moped with the red-and blue flames. Matching the sweatshirt she was wearing to a T. 

“Well, it felt awesome,” Sam huffed, hurrying to fix her hair and helmet before cranking the key to her ride.

“Are you okay?” Mikaela asked hurriedly, putting a hand on her bars to keep her from moving, but the serious, anxious expression on the girl’s face had the taller girl pausing while the Witwicky carefully pried the girl’s hand off with a firm frown. 

“No, I’m not. I’m getting chased by my car, and I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown, so..” she lifted a hand up, flicking down the black visor that shielded her entire face before revving the engine, and pushing off. “Later Banes-!”

She drove off without another word, barely looking backwards as she made it to an intersection before upping the speed as fast as it would go.

She needed to get back to that junkyard again..

* * *

Sam slid to a stop in the center of the abandoned auto garage, watching as Bee disappeared behind a row further away before she heard the sirens.

She cursed under her breath, feeling along the pockets on her right leg until she grasped the handle of the modified “cattle prod”, making sure it was within easy reach before she fit her shirt hem over it and put her moped back beside a pillar.

She’d need to get it, later.

She ducked between a few rows quickly, getting away from her ride, before barrelling into the oncoming path of a police cruiser. She stumbled a little, panting a bit from her racing heart and slight panic, before forcing herself to calm, and bracing her hands on her knees with an expression of relief. “Oh thank Lollipops.. Officer-!” she waved and arm, slowly walking forward, keeping her eyes on the holoform in the seat of the vehicle, and not the headlights with dangerous blades hidden behind them. “Officer, please-! I’m having the weirdest day-” she cut herself off then, taking in the actual curves of the car before her eyes lit up.

_ Don’t you fucking DARE-.. J-Just.. Just baby him later-! _

“My car just chased me through town without a driver-!” she continued, the pause only lasting a second or two before she was gesturing with her hands to a point behind him as Bumblebeee hauled as out of there, “I wound up running through here to lose it-! I need..”

There was a whirring sound, and her words gradually slowed as she took a step back, “A little..”

Pieces seemed to manifest out of midair, and truly they actually did. Seamlessly and smoothly unlocking and sliding into place without so much as a pause as the giant, hunkering pile of alien metal clunked, hissed, and revved his engine, until he stomped, standing tall right above her, his expression hard.

“ _ Help. _ ”

Her squeak wasn’t unheard, and when she turned to bolt it she prepared herself to duck. 

She ran, faster and faster, getting into a further, open area where there was a clear shot of a bridge ahead. However, just as she heard the arm swooping in, she’d ducked to jump, not expecting to be caught up rather than thrown. She felt his fingers tightening sharply, flexing around her torso as he slowed his last few steps, his red optics bright and pinpointed straight at her as he brought her to his face. His breath, or venting she supposed, was heavy, and smelled like the air in a junkyard melting room.

And don’t get her started on how sharp that smell was.

“Are you username  _ Cyber-Spark-Four-Four-Four _ -?!” he demanded, the sheer volume of his demand and the use of his vents blowing the hair away from her face, her cringe evening out as he brought her closer to his face, annoyance evident. “Dude, what the hell are you talking about-?!” Sam demanded shrilly.  _ Christ he was squeezing too tight-! _

“Are you username  _ Cyber-Spark-Four-Four-Four-! _ ” he screamed again, nearly blowing out her eardrum and giving her a single, sharp shake to emphasize his demand.

“Yes,” she bleat, catching her panic on her tongue and forcing herself to focus.

_ Kick your heel, kick your heel-! _

“Where is eBay item two-one-one-five three-?! Where are the glasses-?!”

_ Sorry Barricade- _

Her foot swung up, planting itself on his upper chassis just before she kicked.

_ Hard. _

She went flying out of his hand while the fire beneath her shoe spluttered, before flickering out, sending her into a tumble-roll before she was on her feet again and running.

The robot behind her roared in agitation, and she didn’t look back as she booked it for the bridge.

The fact that she saw Mikaela coasting on her moped toward the fight was less than she was hoping for.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the time, or the patience, to chew her ass out, and managed to clothes-line her off of the bike before she could get any closer, sending them tumbling to the ground with a scream from the raven haired woman and a grunt from the brunette. “God-!”

Sam scrambled to her feet, hurrying to smack the side of her boots and check that she still had her cattle prod.

_ Still there- thank God.. _

“What the hell is your  _ problem  _ Sam-?!” Mikaela demanded shrilly totally unprepared for the teen in front of her to shoot her a withering look cold enough to chill her to the bone before literally  _ picking her up and throwing her over her shoulder- whatthefuck- _

“Sam-!” she screamed, fisting her hands into the girl’s sweatshirt as she took off sprinting. “What the hell is-”

_ Thump-Thump-Thump-! _

“Going.. On..?” Mikaela’s mouth ran dry as she saw the giant, black  _ thing  _ run toward them, tossing aside husks of cars as if they were featherweight toys and glaring at them with evil, red glowing eyes. “ _ SAM-?!” _

“We’re being chased by an alien-!” Sam called back sharply. “This one’s not so friendly-!”

“Aliens-?!” Mikaela screamed, her voice cut off as a revving, roaring engine was heard, and a familiar, yellow Camaro came speeding through the lot, swerving between the teens and the giant robot, sending up a giant cloud of dust before sliding to a stop in front of them, the door swinging open sharply. Sam set the shaking girl down, holding her shoulders and pushing her toward the car. “Get in the car Banes. Banes-!” she repeated, swatting the girl’s back and shaking her a little.

“I don’t want to,” Mikaela protested, her voice shrill and a lot more quiet than when it had been angry. “I don’t want to- I don’t want to-”

“Banes-!” Sam actually shook her then, forcing her to meet her eyes, “Get in the damn car-! Trust me on this-! Okay-?! Hurry up-!” Sam tugged her along, before hurrying inside, practically tugging the raven in after her and making sure she was far enough that the door was closed. “We’re good- Let’s go-!” she barked, forcing herself to sit up and reach over to help right Mikaela.

Bumblebee didn’t waste a second before taking off with a spray of gravel and dust. 

They were racing at speeds fast enough to completely obliterate the humans if they wrecked, but Sam had no such qualms, keeping her hold tight on Mikaela’s shoulders while she panicked, crying and flexing her fingers in anxious bursts. “Oh God- we’re gonna die-  _ we’re gonna die-! _ ”

“We’re  _ not  _ gonna die-!” Sam snapped, reaching around to take a full hold of the girl, making sure to look her in the eye. Mikaela’s breathing was sharp and heavy, and Sam took great caution not to look at the red and blue lights flashing ominously behind them. “We are  _ not _ gonna die..  _ I _ won’t let you die, okay? Can you breath for me, now?” Mikaela gave a nod, slow at first, before doing it quickly to be seen over the rough bumps in the road.

“Good,” Sam nodded, squeezing her shoulders before scooting back just a tad. “Good. In and out, okay? In and out. Can you do that for me-?”

Mikaela nodded again, putting deep, centered focus into her breathing, trying to ignore her outrageous panic.

“ _ Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing- cause every little thing, is gonna be alright-! _ ”

The radio blasted, and Sam didn’t hesitate to reach out a hand and swat the dash, “Optics on the road-!”


End file.
